


drowning (slowly, then all at once)

by funkypunkskeleton



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode: s13e05 Advanced Thanatology, but instead we get ANGST, destiel is kinda implied, so basically like canon, this was supposed to be fluff ffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 20:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12733836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkypunkskeleton/pseuds/funkypunkskeleton
Summary: Dean hardly remembers the drive back to the bunker.





	drowning (slowly, then all at once)

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit, it's been a while, hasn't it? so have some angst! :D

Dean hardly remembers the drive back to the bunker. His mind is swimming, only bits and pieces breaking the surface -- glancing through the rear-view mirror, catching blue eyes he thought he’d never see again; there’s Sam’s voice, asking... something, and then deep, rumbling replies from a voice he thought he’d never hear again. He remembers gripping Baby’s wheel until his fingers went numb. He remembers the way his chest felt -- heavy and aching, like he was getting air for the first time and struggling with it.

He barely says a word to anyone, too stunned to even attempt at sifting through the mess in his head, tangled like wires, seemingly endless and impossible to get a single line out.

Dean takes a seat at one of the tables, his legs finally giving out, stretched out in front of him and limp, and drops his head in his hands. He feels like he’s drowning. It’s only when he hears his name, spoken in a low, urgent voice, that he realizes that he’s started shaking. He lowers his hands, regards it with a sort of detachment, as if it’s somebody else.

“Oh,” Dean breathes, quiet. He clenches his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. Then he looks up, seeing three pairs of eyes on him with varying degrees of concern. “I’m fine,” he says, and his voice betrays him as it cracks feebly.

The deep voice speaks first, and Dean has to shut his eyes. He can’t -- he _can’t_ \-- “Dean.”

Dean stands up, the chair scraping loudly across the floor and nearly falling over due to his abruptness. His heart is in his throat, and he can’t breathe. He mumbles a weak excuse and makes a hasty retreat, unable to stand being in that room any longer, all the while everything in him is protesting, screaming to go back -- back to _him_. He hears them call his name, clearly worried, confused.

He forces himself to keep going.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://write-nerdy-to-me.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
